Incendio
by Genevieve22
Summary: Our love turned out to be like the tango soaked in autumn bitterness that we were dancing on the edge of the abyss, and it was raining from the sky, and we desperately wanted to believe that this rain would restore our faith in ourselves.


_10 years later_

I didn't seem to know him at all. The stupid stereotypes imposed by society and a bunch of teenagers, who were crazy from hormones and freedom, could hardly be considered the ultimate truth that's why I joyfully threw off this unnecessary husk and went along the unhurried path of the darkness of someone else's soul.

I think I have known him all my life. Of course, I would not lie, saying that it was so. Snarky professor, who terrified even the ghost of the Bloody Baron. The one whose opinion was considered by the Ray-of Light-In-the-Dark-Kingdom-of-Alien-Ignorance - Dumbledore, meant that there was something in him that deserved attention. Did he know himself at all?

About ten years have passed, and I still remember that damned Yule Ball, and I must admit, this memory no longer hurts me. A bunch of stupid children who decided to play love! I remember sitting on a staircase somewhere in the forgotten corridors of Hogwarts and crying about my broken happiness. The professor walked by, horrifying all the surrounding ghosts, and tripped over me, curled up on the steps. I wanted to fall through the ground from shame and humiliation, and he suddenly handed me a handkerchief with a monogram embroidered around the edge and helped me up: _"Will you let me invite you? It's not good to meet your First Ball without a dance partner."_

And then there was a New Year, full of fears, disappointments, and events, and there was Christmas night, which took me by surprise in the middle of the dark corridor of the School, where I was pushed by loneliness, despair, and a stupid quarrel with Ron, who was still jealous of me even to the ghost of Baron. A war was knocking on the door, which was too far from the gloomy and romantic tales that we wanted to believe in, but we lived in the present and continued to hope. Recklessness, which only youth was capable of. And so I stepped closer to the austere winter landscape that adorned the entrance to the professorial quarters, and called myself names and completely didn't understand what I was doing here. The lock clicked and I found myself inside. The room was warm and dark, only the flame of the fireplace captured the obscure shadows, and tobacco smoke swirled.

_"__New Year's promises, Miss Granger?" Tell me, who needs promises? People are accustomed to deceiving themselves, they are happier living with this lie than to face their own fears. The euphoria of the first day of the year will pass, and everything will remain as it is. We will continue lying and dissembling, abandoning and betraying, acting in our interests in order to win the war, and we will assure ourselves that such a path is the right one. There is no sense in promises and holiday resolutions, the world is rotten through and through, and we will not have the strength to rebuild it._

_"But for some reason, you keep fighting ..."_

His dark look nailed me to my chair, and I didn't have to be a Legiliment to understand that he saw my very soul. One did not need to be a Legiliment to understand that the only thing that still drove him was revenge and a sense of duty. And all my talk about the victory of light over darkness did not mean anything to a person to whom his whole life proved the opposite. I again saw a little boy with tangled hair, desperately running first for his mother, then for Lily, then for the professors of the school, in order to end up being an unnecessary pawn in the game, doomed to failure beforehand. I seemed to be dead drunk, it seemed that this did not bother me at all. I remember. I catch the threads of memories from the yarn of memory and walk along with them, winding this bitter ball from unfulfilled. Of course, Severus and I did not have a single chance that time, but I lived among Muggles for too long to believe in fairy-tales, the fairy-tale world that I dreamed about turned out to be too cruel for girls with hypertrophic perfectionism. Our love turned out to be like the tango soaked in autumn bitterness that we were dancing on the edge of the abyss, and it was raining from the sky, and we desperately wanted to believe that this rain would restore our faith in ourselves. I inhaled the smoke of cigarettes and snuggled as close as I could, trying to merge together with the very essence of fidelity, rage, and strength, I so wanted to make him believe! I snuggled to Severus.

And so I was standing in the Shack, squeezing a vial of antivenin in a numbing fingers, that one Severus himself handed me to me, silently saying goodbye in the morning. He foretold everything, even his own death. He did not expect a happy ending, he got used to not believe in happiness and not to proclaim New Year's resolutions. But I didn't need resolutions to save him. I did not even need the famous Gryffindor bravery! Time passes, Severus, and strong, desperate cynics grow out of such brave and smart girls that I once was. I saved him but he was no longer around to answer my musings. Nonetheless, I kept asking. For the first time, the perfect girl Hermione couldn't find the answer, couldn't solve the task, because she knew the result in advance. And it's good that a loving Ron is not at home. Loving, but not beloved. The once soothsaying Sybil was right: my soul really became dry, like parchment. However, in the Muggle world they believed that witches did not have a soul, and, having decided so, joyfully burned them at the stake. Flame, Professor, the flame looks so much like you ...

I saved you, we won the war and no longer saw each other after that warm May night, which forever weaned me from believing in New Year's promises. We wandered around the world, remaining in place, and waged our own battles with the past. I left Ron and almost forgot about the existence of Harry, I plunged into the work, hoping that the present could erase the past from my memory, the past which was still burning with frantic flames and mockingly asked me to forget about promises and New Year resolutions. I was afraid to make inquiries about Severus as if I knew that he would be better off without an unbearable know-it-all, and without worshiping his heroism, and without those who want to devour him alive. Time passed, I continued to go crazy and slowly burn out from the inside. The flame kindled in me by this crazy and wrong love cannot be extinguished either by water or by other people who have occasionally appeared in my life.

And now the New Year has come, which is customary to meet with friends, drink champagne and believe in miracles. And snowflakes are flying from the sky, shimmering in the rays of the setting sun, and cheerful laughter of people who still believe in something can be heard from everywhere, and I wander around the monument to the Heroes of the War and try not to question my own mental health. It seems I'm starting to understand Severus' relations with New Year promises.

And it's funny to me, but tears come out of nowhere. Ten years have passed, and I do not know what to do with my life anymore. Yes, and I do not want to find out. I have nothing to ask from the night sky. Too late to believe in fairy tales. But Severus is coming towards me, all the same, horrifying all random passers-by, there is not a shadow of a smile on his face, but the piercing gaze of dark eyes burns with a flame that I no longer hoped to feel. He holds out his hand, inviting me to follow. And I follow him.

_"I promise, Miss Granger."_

_The End. _


End file.
